


Talk (Dirty) To Me

by jacksonwng



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Awkwardness, Derek is trying to pay his way, Drunkenness, Erica is Derek's best bro, Everyone is a college student, F/M, M/M, Phone Sex, Phone Sex Operator!Derek, Pining, Relationship is pretty much entirely on the phone, Stiles is his favourite client
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksonwng/pseuds/jacksonwng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was probably strange that Derek was so affected by the unknown voice on the phone. At the very least, it was unprofessional. He was paid to talk to at least a dozen men and women a day, to get them off by using what fantasy they wished, in whatever position or role they wanted him to play. That’s how it hard started with Stiles, but he was so….different.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>On their first call, he had been so nervous and awkward, a virgin in every sense of the word – except for jerking off, because, as Stiles had admitted the first time they spoke, he could probably win the gold medal. Derek had urged him through easily, with a skill he had learn since he joined ‘Mencalypse’ in his first year of college, and from that moment, it was like Stiles had come out of his shell. He would call around the same time every day, every two days and just…talk. Talking was clearly a talent of his, Derek had figured that out when he babbled for five minutes about whether or not he liked the idea of rimming. (It turned out that yes, he did). </em>
</p>
<p>Phone Sex Operator!Derek AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk (Dirty) To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://imthekeptainnow.tumblr.com/post/54746655892/stilesisourking-mountainashes-snugglewolf) post
> 
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

“Thank you baby,” the breathless voice cooed at him down the phone line, “God, you’re so good.”

Derek rolled his eyes and hummed. “You two, just, oh I’ve never cum so hard.”

The man – Jeff, as he’d made Derek moan – chuckled. “And I’ll make you do it again tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Definitely.”

Derek gave his customary goodbye and, only after he was sure he had hung up, he grunted out his frustration. Derek couldn’t really be sure how he got this job – it wasn’t exactly one that could be advertised in the newspaper – but he was at college and he had been desperate and the money was good. Really good in fact. Worth the intruding calls, the secretary about what his job entailed, and the frankly embarrassing fake orgasms and cliché dirty talking, something he had admittedly gotten increasingly good at. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t days when he wanted to ignore the calls and just spend a day not talking to some creeper on the other end of the line.

His phone rang again and he sighed heavily, preparing himself, before answering it.

“Hey,” Derek greeted smoothly.

“D,” the voice, familiar and very much welcomed voice that was Stiles, greeted him and he felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably.

“Stiles, back so soon?” he tried to play it cool, despite the way his hands was gripping the counter or the way his cock was hardening in his jeans already.

“I couldn’t leave you for too long, could I?” Stile taunted.

“No, I guess not,” Derek hummed, “Where are we starting today?”

“I think I want you tied up, yeah, definitely tied up. All spread out in front of him, like a present.”

Derek shivered and he moved as fast as he could towards his sofa, sitting and parting his legs. “You’ve never tied me up before.”

“Time for a change,” Stiles replied simply, “I think you’d look good like that, strapped to my bed, unable to move, just stuck there, waiting for me, until I find you. You’d probably be naked, the straps biting into your wrists and your cock that would be hard for me wouldn’t it baby?”

“Yes,” Derek murmured his agreement.

“Wet for me,” he continued.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. His cock pressed hard against his fly and he adjusted the phone so he was between his ear and his shoulder so he could reach down with shaky hands to unzip his jeans, push down his boxers, and grip his dick tightly. Stiles hummed in his ear, muttering some praise, and Derek got harder.

“I’d be happy with my gift D, so very happy. I’d watch you for a moment, just taking in every dip of your stomach and every harsh breath and every tremble. And then I kiss you, just on the lips, a reward for being so good to me. I’d touch you slowly, with my hands first and then lips. I’d lick and bite until everyone knows you’re mine. I’d spend ages, just tasting you, but not where you want me. Is your cock hard D? Is it hard for me? Hmmm…I’m going to suck it D, do you want that?”

Filth poured from Stiles’ mouth and Derek had to close his eyes and just let it all wash over him. Goosebumps would rise and the skin would tingle where he was supposed to touch, like a ghost of one. His lips would part and he would clutch at his cock, desperately trying not to thrust upwards, to finish too soon because that would mean it was over.

“I’d suck your head first, just sliding my tongue along the slit, and I would wait for you to beg before I take anymore. Will you beg for me?”

Derek muttered the word please over and over again, letting his hand move once or twice up and down in aborted movements. He preened at Stiles’ praises, “Good boy, so good, I’d suck all of you, right down so I can lick your balls; would you like that?”

Over the phone, Derek could hear the low hums of breath on the other end of the phone line, hear the loud and sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Derek closed his eyes to imagine, mimicking the movements and the timing.

“I’d want to fuck you like that,” Stiles said hoarsely, “Still tied up. I’d press your legs up until you could hold them up for me. I’d lick your arse first, slow, until you were sopping wet and delirious, just wanting and shaking with the need to be filled. I’d stretch you, only two fingers, because I still want you tight. Are you still tight for me?”

Derek croaked out a “yes” and his hand moved faster, using his pre-cum to slide easily. His thumb flicked over his slit and he hissed out.

“Are you close D?  Do you want to cum? Fuck, I wish you were here. I want to fuck you so much, god…” Stiles breathed out harshly, and Derek could tell he was speeding up. He mimicked it. The hoarse voice urged him on, encouraging him to let go and just cum.

When he finally did, it had snuck up on him from behind and made his vision go white. He grunted out and let out a shaky moan, coating his hand and his t-shirt (he really should remember to take that off before he starts) and leaving him trembling. He heard the exhale of breath and Stiles’ aborted shout, and silence descended between them.

“So, bondage, definitely a kink,” Stiles sighed out.

Derek laughed a little. “Apparently. So glad I could help with that.”

“I bet you say that to all your callers,” Stiles teased.

Derek smile wavered. “Well, it would be unprofessional of me to have favourites.”

“So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have favourites?”

“Hmm…possibly.”

*

It was probably strange that Derek was so affected by the unknown voice on the phone. At the very least, it was unprofessional. He was paid to talk to at least a dozen men and women a day, to get them off by using what fantasy they wished, in whatever position or role they wanted him to play. That’s how it hard started with Stiles, but he was so….different.

On their first call, he had been so nervous and awkward, a virgin in every sense of the word – except for jerking off, because, as Stiles had admitted the first time they spoke, he could probably win the gold medal. Derek had urged him through easily, with a skill he had learn since he joined ‘ _Mencalypse’_ in his first year of college, and from that moment, it was like Stiles had come out of his shell. He would call around the same time every day, every two days and just…talk. Talking was clearly a talent of his, Derek had figured that out when he babbled for five minutes about whether or not he liked the idea of rimming. (It turned out that yes, he did).

Stiles was the only one of his callers that ever got him hard, that made his hands sweat and his heart jolt in his chest. In fact, he was probably the only person that made Derek react like that and wasn’t it just a little sad? That he felt this way, that he acted this way, because of someone he hadn’t even met yet - a man that he only knew the voice and name of (if Stiles was his real name and really, who called their kid Stiles?)

It was pathetic. He was being pathetic, but every time Derek told himself to treat Stiles like any other caller, the voice would roll his name – just _one stupid letter_ – and he would already be straining against his trousers.

And the thing was, Derek wasn’t sure that he cared anymore.

*

“You need to get laid,” Erica practically begged at him, “Like in real life and not with the mysterious voice.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m fine Erica.”

“No, you’re not, because you have a hard on for a voice. That’s not normal Derek,” she reminded him, “And you’re gorgeous, why not be out there getting sex for real instead of jerking yourself off like the people who call you?”

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to meet people for meaningless sex?”

It was Erica’s turn to roll her eyes. “What kind of college student are you?” she shook her head pityingly, “Look, there’s a party on Friday in one of the senior’s dorms. We’re going.”

Derek shook his head in negative. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Erica. I’m not going.”

*

Derek sworn his was ambushed. Erica had enlisted Boyd’s help and damn that man could never refuse his girlfriend. And that’s how he found himself, clutching a drink and surrounded by 18 year olds. Erica had abandoned him within minutes of arriving, the bitch. Teenagers made eyes at him but he purposely avoided making eye contact, out of fear mostly, and drunk deeply from his drink.

He frowned a little when it finished and took a step forward, intending to find the drinks table again, when someone stumbled into him. Out of reflex, Derek grabbed him before he hit the floor. The kid, buzz cut and amber eyes that stared drunkenly up at him, grinned widened and pushed himself up onto his feet. He used Derek as a leaning post to stable himself, hands on his shoulders.

“Thanks dude,” he slurred a little, “I wasn’t looking where I was going and-“he cut off sharply, eyes drifting to his hands.

“What?” Derek grumbled out, confused.

“You have nice shoulders,” he murmured absentmindedly. His hands begun to move, gently stroking and then something more firm, “Very nice shoulders, and arms, you’re arms are nice. Big muscles. Do you work out?”

Derek gapped at the stranger who was now staring at him with thinly veiled interest, as if actually waiting for an answer. Another kid, this one with longer hair and brown eyes, jumped at his side and began to herd him away, shooting Derek apologetic looks over his shoulder. The kid turned at the last moment and waved, beaming at him, “Bye-bye Mr Nice Arms!”

It was only when he got home that night, tired and irritated and very much un-sexed, that he realised he recognised that voice.

*

The knowledge sat with him for days, the constantly wondering whether he had met Stiles, in real life and he was a kid. Honestly, looking back to the first call, it made sense. A virgin, who hadn’t really tried anything. He was too young to. Derek tried searching for this mystery freshmen himself but it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth.  He just didn’t see him anyway. Derek didn’t even see his long haired friend that resembled a puppy. Just nothing. He didn’t really expect much, to be fair. Stanford was huge anyway and it was entirely possible that they didn’t even attend the school.

But by nice, he was still taking the calls. Still letting Stiles take him apart piece by piece, until he was a shaking wreck and in those few minutes at the end, when Stiles would talk to him about random parts of his day or his friend – Scott, mostly, and his girlfriend, Allison, and Lydia,  a douche called Jackson, Isaac and his on again, off again boyfriend, Danny (it was probably strange that he remembered all their names, could remember the little stories, the little complaints that Stiles would offer him) – Derek could never work up the courage to ask what college he was at, to ask whether he had gone to that party, to ask whether they could meet.

It was just…maybe it was because he was too afraid. What if Stiles didn’t want to meet him? What if that guy wasn’t Stiles? What if the person he had started to imagine when Stiles spoke wasn’t him? What if Stiles didn’t feel the same way? He was a phone sex operator for fuck’s sake, hardly boyfriend material. Not that Derek was thinking about that.

His conflicting feelings combined into a bad mood that even Erica and Boyd noticed.

“What’s wrong? Mystery voice not call?” Erica mock pouted at him.

Derek grunted and didn’t respond.

“Is this about the kid from Lydia’s party?” Boyd asked quietly.

Derek tried not to show his disbelief at exactly how Boyd figured that out.

Erica’s eyes darted between her best friend and her boyfriend. “The kid? What kid?” she poked Boyd, “Why didn’t you tell me before?” she kicked Derek’s leg under the table, “Why didn’t _you_ tell me?”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Derek muttered.

“Not that big a deal,” Erica repeated and snorted, shaking her head, “You, Derek Hale, had a connection with an actually human being – and yes, freshmen count as humans – and you don’t think that’s important.”

“It’s not,” Derek insisted, “Besides, it’s not as if I’ve seen him since.”

Realisation lit up in her eyes. “Oh, so that’s why you’ve been looking around so much. I thought you were looking out for Argent.”

Derek grimaced. Kate Argent, ex-girlfriend and the new Criminal Justice teacher at Stanford. She was a lot older than him but they’d been together back when he was still in High School, in Beacon Hills, and she’d dumped him publically with a mocking sneer. He had to admit he’d never quite gotten over it, and Laura theorized it was the reason behind his trust issues. And of course, he had to get a job here, the college that Derek attends.  He swore it was her plan to bring him as much pain as possible.

“No, it’s not for her,” he muttered.

*

It was probably a bad idea to tell Erica.

Scratch that, it was _definitely_ a bad idea.

Erica was a determined woman and once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to get her to stop. Which was why her new project was ‘find the freshman and get Derek laid’. Derek himself tried to ignore any mention of said project, but he had to admit, he appreciated the support, even if Erica didn’t know why he was so interested in the teen.

But, in the end, it turned out, he didn’t need Erica’s help.

The kid that was possibly Stiles snuck up on him at a place he never actually expected to see him, which was strange since most people went to the grocery store.

It was the voice he heard first.

Stronger, more distinct, filled with laughter as he teased his companion. Derek found himself moving towards the voice, dodging past shoppers and babies in prams, just desperate to get one look.

Yes, it was the kid. The same one from the party. The same buzz cut that seemed to make his ears point out goofily. The same amber eyes that were much clearer now, creased at the edges because of his smile, this joyful beam. His hands, long and nimble, flailed around him as he tried to demonstrate something to his amused friend, a curly haired blond this time. Derek took in everything, the pink flush on his cheeks and the spattering of moles on his cheeks and on his neck.

It was only when he nearly knocked over a baked bean display that he realised how long he’d been staring. He took long strides backwards and shook his head, trying to shake the shudders and the arousal that was slowly building. He just…he needed to get out of there, now. He moved speedily towards the check out.

The girl at the till smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes. “Would you like your items bagged sir?” she asked.

“Uh, yes…please,” he rumbled out, a little distractedly, and shot her a distracted smile.

There was a crash behind him, like something had been dropped, and Derek turned to see what had happened, curious as any other shopper, and found himself frozen in place.

It was Stiles.

He was staring at Derek, wide eyed and shocked, his hands hanging useless and limp. It was a carton of milk that had hit the ground, spilling across the aisle and onto his shoes. Derek could see the disbelief and the questioning in his ears before realisation and certainty took over. He muttered something over his shoulder to his friend who looked confused by the whole situation and took a step towards him.

Derek wasn’t proud of how he dealt with the situation, but it had seemed like the best thing at the time.

He ran.

*

Stiles called at eight, the same as normal, that night.

Derek stared at his phone, the ringing echoing around the living room, and wondered whether he should answer it. He didn’t know for certain, but it could be Stiles, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the conversation that was obviously about to come. But if it wasn’t, his pay would be docked.

Sighing heavily, Derek decided he needed the money more than he wanted to avoid a social situation.

“Hey,” he greeted with practised ease.

“Hi, uh, it’s…its Stiles?”

Derek swallowed heavily. “Right, Stiles, back so soon?”

“Actually, I’m not calling for sex – not that’s not good, mean you’re like godly with your abilities and you let me say what I want, which no one ever really lets me do, but I ah,  I just,  I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay. Ask away?” Derek hoped his voice didn’t give away his nerves.

“Are you…do you…god, this is going to sound so weird, but do you happen to go to Berkley?”

“Y-yeah, yah, I do,” Derek coughed, “Um, I study Architecture.”

“It’s you, isn’t it? You were at the grocery store today!” Stiles sounded excited.

“Everyone has to do to the grocery store at some point Stiles,” Derek was quick to say.

“But it was you. I heard you. No one says ‘yes’ the way you do!”

“You recognised me from the way that I said ‘yes’?”

“God, that’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” Stiles huffed out, “But, ah! You didn’t deny it this time! It was you!”

“I guess it was…” Derek sighed out and found himself dropping into his armchair. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say. What was the procedure for talking to the person you’ve been having phone sex with for weeks now that they had seen each other for the first time?

“So, uh, what now? This whole thing will be kind of awkward now that we know what each other looks like,” Stiles said lowly.

“You don’t have to call me, you know,” Derek reminded.

“Do you not want me to?”

“I never said that.”

“So you do,” Stiles said, sounding a little relieved.

“I’m not supposed to. You’re my client and I dirty talk down a phone to pay my way.” Derek sighed heavily.

“Hey, you’re job is your job. And you’ve told me before, I’m the only one that makes you, ah, hard…”

“I said that during a scene Stiles,” Derek’s lip twitched upwards into a smirk that the man had even remembered him admitting that in the heat of the moment.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Stiles stated confidently and Derek wasn’t going to dispute him the truth. There was silence between them, neither really knowing what to say before Stiles’ ability to fill the silence came in very handy.

“I want to meet you D, properly this time. No grocery shops or being drunk at a party. Just me and you and somewhere where I can see the person I’ve grown to care about.”

“Derek.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my name. Derek.”

“Does the offering of a real name mean yes?”

“Yes Stiles, it means yes.”

*

The first real meeting was…awkward at first. Derek had shown up their early, not wanting to be late, and had spent five minutes wracking his brain for something to say, anything to say. And when Stiles showed up, dressed in a bright red hood that seemed to make his amber eyes even brighter, everything he could have possibly thought of went completely out the window.

“Hi,” Derek said lamely as soon as Stiles’ sat down.

The man smiled nervously. “Hi,” he repeated.

“Do you, ah, want a drink?” Derek offered.

“I can get my own,” Stiles assured but he was shot down by Derek just repeating the question. Stiles sighed, lips twitching in amusing, “Fine, I’ll have a latte and an espresso shot.” (Later, Derek would know that the extra shot of coffee to the already hyperactive student wasn’t exactly the smartest of ideas).

When Derek returned with their drinks, they smiled awkwardly at one another, not really sure what to say and sipping at the liquid in the mugs to make sure they didn’t have to say anything. To be honest, Derek was waiting for Stiles just to get up and leave and he guessed it was the fear of that which had him taking the first step.

“You don’t talk as much as you do on the phone,” he commented.

Stiles smiled a little. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just because I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say in this situation. But really, who would know?”

Derek hummed understandingly. “I can’t imagine that this has ever happened.”

“Isn’t this like breaking the rules or something?” he asked lowly.

“I don’t think so. It was never explicitly mentioned. I just have to fulfil a certain quota in a week,” Derek shrugged a little, and then gulped at his mocha, “Besides, I don’t think I care that much what Mencalypse have to say about this.”

Stiles choked a little on a laugh. “I’m sorry, but that’s a really ridiculous name.”

“Hey, you phoned them,” Derek poked back with a grin.

“You work there,” Stiles retorted.

The tension faded slowly as they conversed, talking about their courses and their friends (Derek found out that Scott was the friend at the party, and Isaac was at the store. They also decided that Lydia and Erica should never met, less the world come to an end) and their families and they even descended into a game of 20 questions when Stiles wouldn’t stop asking him about random and unconnected aspects of his life. It was fun, but it wasn’t until they were back on familiar ground that Derek thought that maybe a real relationship was actually possible.

“You know, you’re more reserved in real life,” Stiles mused, tilting his head a little.

“More reserved? What did you expect?” Derek arched an eyebrow.

Stiles looked a little embarrassed. “Well, you’re so collected and confident on the phone, and not afraid to say what you want.” His cheeks flushed.

“What did you expect me to,” he leant closer, lowering his voice and pressed their legs against each other, “get on my knees for you, to suck your cock until you shot down my throat. Or did you want to be lie down and present myself to you so you could stretch and lick and fuck as you pleased.

“Shit…” Stiles let out a shaky moan, eyes darkening and cheeks turning red. It was so much better than Derek had expected and suddenly, he felt possessive over that look. No one else should get the privilege to see it.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Derek questioned, urgency in his voice.

“Yes, yes, I-I want to get out of here. Like now.” Stiles nodded dizzily.

Derek grinned wildly. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr [here](http://imthekeptainnow.tumblr.com/post/55116787428/teen-wolf-talk-dirty-to-me) :)


End file.
